And maybe then you'll know me too
by XxZuiliu
Summary: For once in his life, he will be selfless. Even if it will still be in his own selfish way, by his own selfish standards… well, he's never been particularly good at letting things go. Why would this be any different? [SI/OC, Male!OC, Uzumaki!OC, Third War, AU]
1. Beyond the Far Shores

Title: And maybe then you'll know me too

Rating: T

Summary: For once in his life, he will be selfless. Even if it will still be in his own selfish way, by his own selfish standards… well, he's never been particularly good at letting things go. Why would this be any different? [SI/OC, Male!OC, Uzumaki!OC, Third War, AU]

 **Warnings:** Not much so far in the first chapter. Minor language.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto._

(AN at bottom of the chapter.)

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 **And maybe then you'll know me too**

 _01: "Beyond the Far Shores"_

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I lived in Utopia, once.

In Utopia, the sky was gray. The sky was gray from the potent lunacy of pollution, of towers spitting clouds of ash-black smoke into the air, and of foul, corrupting substances dumped into clear rivers with consummate efficiency and grace. There was summer in Utopia, the sort of summer that warmly embraced the children of the earth –so warmly that many died to the scorching care of the radiant sun and mercurial monsoons every year. In contrast, winter was silent and cold, and so very gentle. One could simply go to sleep and never wake up again if no embers smoldered diligently in the fire pit throughout the night.

… As you may have gathered by this point, my Utopia was not perfect. Far from it. But Utopia _did_ have its own charms; cities where tall buildings of sleek, eclectic design spiraled high into the heavens and transportation devices that allowed people to travel over land, by water, through air.

Most importantly, though, I cannot recall Utopia ever embroiled in war in my lifetime, and that is precisely why I refer to this world as _Utopia._

Utopia is a world of sharp inconsistencies; extreme poverty and ostentatious luxury existing side by side in a land of dreams and death, where the strong survive by trampling on the weak.

But of course, this is nothing new.

(The moment I had realized that this standard was held doubly true in the world I now lived in, I had laughed. Because while some things were different, it looked like there were also others that never changed. Human nature can be fickle and inconstant, but at the same time it can still be oh so very predictable at its core.)

Uzushiogakure is no Utopia.

What is Uzushiogakure, then?

In the more literal sense of things, a village. Not one of the Great Villages, blooming with over a dozen different Clans and beckoning a variety of businesses and investments into its fold under the thin veneer of civility. Uzushio has not attracted a wide range of rare bloodlines, nor is it strategically located as a major trade route. A minor village, a quiet village. But not one that is easily overlooked.

From another perspective, Uzushio is _the whirlpool,_ and this is undisputed fact _._ It is the very water itself; it is both the thunderous wave when the ocean roars to life and the quiet tide when the raging sea subsides grudgingly and draws back to the silent shore. Uzushio is both where the sunrise breaks the frothing crest of relentless waves to release rays of red and gold into the empty sky, and where the dusk light rests its weary head to return to the deep waters from whence it came.

… A bit poetic, perhaps. Nonetheless, if one wants to be accurate about things from my personal perspective –Uzushiogakure is _home._

It is a home of rose-stone streets and salt-carved cliffs and golden sunshine over the sea breeze. A home of light winds and pastel clouds and scarlet spilling over empty ground. A home of life and living and death. What more could one want?

But perhaps I am being rather unfair here; no doubt, things are much worse in the Great Villages, or even in other Minor Villages. I should be grateful for what I have. And even though I did not _ask_ to be born in the midst of war, it is not like there is anything I could've done to prevent such from happening. Such factors had been and still are beyond my control. And, for what it's worth –it is not like this is a bad life, if I think optimistically about things, and avoid thinking about the low life expectancy. About the rate of fatalities. Statistics of severe injuries suffered in the field.

… Very, very optimistically.

And even though I _say_ war, it both is and is not a war at the same time. There is no official declaration, no open conflict. And yet there are subtle undercurrents of hostilities and backhanded schemes, and the body count continues to pile up each day with no feasible end in sight. Left unchecked, there is very little doubt in my mind about how things will go, and I know I am not the only one in the village with these somber thoughts.

The youngest, perhaps, but not the only one. And physical age is not necessarily an accurate indication of mental age in the world of cold-blooded assassins and child soldiers; this holds doubly true in my case, if not for the same conventional reasons as most would think it to be. There is a particular secret regarding this that I will be taking with me to the grave.

The secret of why I could speak coherently before I was even a full year of age.

The secret of why I took to calligraphy, to reading and writing, like a fish to water with nary a word of complaint while other children were learning to stand.

The secret of Utopia, where I once lived… and died.

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 _(I died, yes I died._

 _One day I woke up and died, so I could sleep and live again.)_

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I am told that it was a bloody affair, the day I was born.

 _How frightening,_ the midwife had murmured in barbed words. _How haunting. It's as if the child has no regard for his mother at all, twisting and squirming without a care. As if the child is so callous that he cares not if his mother dies giving life to him. How frightening, how haunting. How ungrateful._

… For the record, I would like to state that I am _not,_ in fact, ungrateful towards the woman who bore me in her womb for a good nine months and brought me into this world.

(It is better than the alternative.)

Imagine _nothing._ Not as in an empty expanse of darkness, because darkness itself is a substance that is, essentially, something. Neither is it a field of pure white that stretches out endlessly, because that blinding brilliance, even if it does not contain anything within –that brilliance is also _something,_ not _nothing._ Nothingness is… true; it is not something that can be easily imagined, and maybe it can't really be explained properly through words, because words are a form of communication, words are substantial in and of themselves. Words are not _nothing,_ so they cannot capture the essence of what _nothing_ is.

But imagine this: Once one has _been_ nothing, not darkness and not light and not anything on the grayscale in-between –once one has truly been reduced to and raised to nothing, _nothing,_ with no sense of identity or of self or of any sort of awareness, and then–

And then, one day a switch is flipped in the middle of nothing, where nothing is nothing and absolutely nothing exists… but that's not true. Not anymore.

Suddenly, a conscience.

 _You are nothing, you do not exist, you are the all-consuming void of emptiness, but you are NOT._

It is only a brief moment of _nothing_ before there is _something,_ when all you know is absolute darkness and constricting pressure and the steady pulse of a heartbeat echoing somewhere nearby. Yet one cannot forget the feeling of being _nothing,_ because nothing is _nothing;_ there is no concept of intelligence or space or even _time._ Nothing is… in a way, Absolute, once you have been part of it, once you have been nothing itself.

And it is utterly, _utterly_ terrifying.

(One is not actually _aware_ of being nothing while one _is_ nothing, if that makes any sense. It is only after waking up from this deep slumber, from becoming self-aware again and realizing nothing and _nothing…_ this is where the true nightmares begin, when there is once again reality to speak of.)

I do not think I can ever express properly, in words, how grateful I am to Uzumaki Mai for giving birth to me.

But in another sense, I am also guilty of a most heinous crime… because I have murdered their child before he even had a chance to live, just so I could open my eyes and breathe again. Even if I do not know the exact mechanics of how this occurred or why this happened, even if it is not inaccurate to say that I did not wish for this to occur, I cannot deny that I am _relieved_ and _happy_ to _be alive_ again. And, if offered the chance to _live again_ instead of simply being thrown in headfirst, even if comes at the cost of robbing an innocent life of the chance to know laughter and suffering and love…

I think I would say yes. I'd like to say that I have the moral strength and firm character to refuse, but alas I am naught but a man with my own vices; under the conditions I had been in, I don't think I would've refused.

 _(Yes yes yes I WANT TO LIVE LET ME LIVE.)_

In the end, Uzumaki Mai had made it through childbirth alright. Battered and weakened, but very much still alive and very pleased with the birth of her firstborn son. That would be the sheer Uzumaki resilience showing through, I think, because hearing the horror stories in hindsight, I'm not sure if a regular woman would've survived the delivery.

It would've made for two deaths instead of just one. I'm glad that things didn't come to that.

Uzumaki Akio, on the other hand, had been worried to death by the near-disaster that had barely been circumvented. It didn't stop him from loving his child, his son –but it did make him very hesitant to have another child, contrary to his wife's persistent wishes despite her own near-brush with death. Those were some rather… interesting arguments, in a manner of speaking. Sometimes, even I was drawn into these verbal jousts.

"Kou, don't you want a younger sibling?"

Two pairs of eyes zero in intensely on me; one pair amber-gold and burning with the threat of 'Say yes or risk my wrath' and the other red-violet pair pleading 'No no no' as clear as day.

(Uzumaki Akio loves his wife and child dearly, he is just… understandably concerned, about what difficulties another pregnancy might put on his wife's already-stressed body, and much as he is willing to welcome another child into their lives, there are also some things that he isn't quite willing to risk for to satisfy that little bit of selfishness. Say what you will about his gentle, peace-loving demeanor; Uzumaki Akio is a hundred times a better man than I am and will ever be.)

Being the diplomatic child that I am, this is how I respond to that seemingly-innocent, dangerous query:

"Kaa-chan, I think the stir-fry is burning."

Uzumaki Mai has a surprisingly foul mouth on her when startled, though I only nod docilely when she swiftly spins on me and demands that I forget the last few seconds of my life once she realizes what kind of language she is swinging around with careless abandon in front of an 'impressionable' young child.

("See? I _told_ you I wouldn't be the first one to swear in front of little Kou," my father mutters under his breath, and receives a sharp kick in the shin for his troubles, causing him to let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. He then quietly asks me to forget the last few seconds of my life, too.)

We end up eating out that night, if I remember correctly. I generally do.

Our family dynamics are… surprisingly amiable, as a whole. I had been extremely sensitive and hyperaware of everything I did at first, too scared of the potential consequences that would follow if I were to show myself as _abnormal._ It hadn't been a perfect mask, and doubtlessly I had made many, _many_ slip-ups, but… they didn't seem to mind. Sometimes even pleased, strange as it sounded, and I found less and less reason to hold back. _Boredom_ is indeed a terrifying enemy of mankind.

In retrospect, their reactions made a lot more sense after I found out about the whole shinobi-system thing going on in the village. With two active shinobi as parents, there was little doubt that I would've been eventually nudged into the 'family business' as well. A good portion of the Uzumaki Clan itself acted as active ninjas of Uzushio; even the kage himself happens to be an Uzumaki.

It was a bit of a gradual process, all things considered. Hand games, working on dexterity. Memory games. Rubber knives. And then calligraphy came along, the widely-acknowledged foundation for the art of fuuinjutsu, which the Uzumaki were both famed and notorious for, even in other nations.

"We'll start with some simple kanji first, Kou," my mother smiles and hands me a brush to hold with my small, childish hands. "Then we'll work our way up from there, my little genius. One step at a time."

One step at a time, indeed.

There's something that you don't really notice, living in a ninja village with ninja parents in such a largely ninja-dense population. No one questions the ways of things –when young children play tag, they move from bare hands to rubber knives to sharp, metal kunai. Harmless blank paper strips begin to stop staying blank, and start containing all sorts of nasty surprises in kid's games. Maybe an adult will stop and correct a child's stance in a kata before moving on to their destination.

Baby steps, slow and subtle and almost unnoticeable until you stop and take a step back to look at things. And, thing is –no one thinks of it as strange.

Because they have nothing else to compare it to.

(They don't hold Utopia in their minds. I'm the only one.)

"Kou?"

"Yes, Kaa-chan." I pick up the brush and smooth out the rice paper before me, "I am ready to begin my lessons."

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* * *

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(He's heard of it before. _Genius children._ Prodigies. Children who learned at an absolutely _frightening_ pace, who effortlessly shattered the learning curve like it was made of glass or even less. There were clever children and talented children in every generation; _prodigies,_ however. True prodigies were rare.

What takes other children months to learn, they master in weeks.

What makes other children struggle to understand, they comprehend near-instantly.

When other children fail and start crying, they stop and consider what went wrong. They dissect the problem, find the error, and then proceed to rectify their mistakes.

Uzumaki Akio feels that he has very good reason to suspect that his three year-old son, Uzuamki Kouyou, is nothing short of a _fucking prodigy._

There, he's finally said it.

(The red-haired man glances around nervously in his study room to make sure that his beautiful, beautiful wife does not pop out of nowhere, armed with a frying pan. He loves that terrifying woman, he truly does, but it would be nice if she remembered from time to time that pans were cooking utensils and not weapons.

… Actually, never mind. Taking a frying pan to the head would be much more preferable to taking a kunai. He stands corrected.)

Little Kou had always been a little… unusual. At first they'd been understandably worried, particularly considering the difficult birth – _blood, so much blood everywhere; Mai was going to_ die _and so was his child and there was absolutely_ nothing _he could do_ – but when they visited one of the medics for a checkup, for potential complications, they told them that nothing was wrong. A bit of fluctuation in the child's chakra imbalance, but that was normal in infants, apparently. It would settle down in a few days to a steady ratio. There was nothing they were doing wrong.

So they went home. And Kou continued to be erratic in his behavior –sometimes he'd scream and wail like a regular baby, but other times he'd still and go so _quiet,_ and oh god, those _eyes–_

A deep red-melting-into-violet just like his own. But Akio is pretty darn sure that he had _never_ looked so _aware_ of everything around himself as a baby, unlike the impression his son seemed to give. All. The. Time. And if he stared a little too long, it was almost as if Kou would _notice,_ because the sharpness and intensity in that gaze would dull, and maybe Kou would turn towards him, waving those chubby little arms and making the most _adorable_ little cooing sounds–

Ahem. He's getting a little off-topic here.

The _point_ of this being, Akio's had his suspicions for a long time. And when Kou first started wiggling and crawling around, it was clumsy and every bit the struggles of a normal child, and he'd let out a long breath. Nothing was wrong with his kid, nothing was wrong but his imagination.

It didn't last long.

Kou's motor control improved so quickly that he was _standing_ before he knew it, and Akio knew this because he'd _asked_ other friends who'd had children already; _kids aren't supposed to be standing this early._

Akio had immediately tugged on the back of little Kou's shirt to make him fall back on the ground again. Standing like that on underdeveloped legs not yet ready for milestones like standing and walking could be _dangerous._ And the kid had the gall to give him a vaguely miffed look!

He's pretty sure that he's not imagining things this time, no matter what his wife insists. Mai soon comes around to see his perspective, too.

"I played the seashell game with little Kou today, since it looked like everything else was making him bored," she says, voice hushed. The child is asleep next door. "I ended up using all ten shells. He breezed through it like it was _nothing."_

Ten small seashells, filled with five differently colored sands. Two pairs. Show the child the seashells sand-side up, switch them around, then start flipping them over to make the child match the same colors.

"I think… I think Kou might actually be a genius."

It was a jarring thought to consider. Genii were usually born to families with high pedigrees –he wasn't anything special, just the run-of-the-mill jounin, and Mai was only a chuunin. But once the thought had been raised, it was like a seed had been planted into their minds; it festered and grew, and everything little Kou did to support their suspicions only solidified their theory.

Genius. A prodigy.

At first, they'd been excited. Insanely proud, wildly excited. A _prodigy._ Born to boring old Uzumaki Akio and young Uzumaki Mai, an average pair of shinobi of the Uzumaki Clan living within the walls of Uzushio. Their child would learn fast and grow up to be strong, strong enough to protect himself, to protect Uzushio–

And then a cold bucket of water had come tumbling down on them, dousing all their excitement. It came in the form of whispers, rumors that were fact in all but name. In the form of increasing death tolls, and the steadily-growing gloom that came to encase the cheery, light atmosphere of the village.

It came in the whispers of _war, there is war brewing on the horizon if this goes on._

In peacetime, talented shinobi are carefully cultivated and trained to bring out their full potential. In wartime, there is no such luxury of time. What it means to be a prodigy in a time of war –the very thought of it sickens Akio to his stomach.

Hopefully… hopefully, the upper echelons would be able to sort this out. Hopefully, this mess would dissolve into nothing but unfounded rumors. Hopefully, Akio would not have to do what duty and honor demanded him to do, and allow him to keep his wife and child safe.

But in his line of work as a shinobi, Akio knows better than to hedge his bets on hope.)

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Author's Notes:

Hello everyone. Welcome to _And maybe then you'll know me too._ Because Uzumaki!OC fics are always fun. :3

This fic is largely the result of binge-reading _Naruto_ fanfics these last few days, and I'm not even entirely sure where I'm going with this plot. I'll figure it out if I decide to continue writing this, though. And if people seem interested in this, I guess? Trying to dabble around a little bit with some Uzushio/Uzumaki stuff here, mainly, so let me know if you like what you see so far.

Also, if anyone has recommendations for good OC fics in the fandom, feel free to shoot away! I'm in a bit of a reading mood these days, but sometimes it's a bit of a pain to rummage around for good fics.

Feedback would be appreciated. If there are any grammar mistakes or other errors wandering around the text, please let me know as well.

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 **QUESTION:** Mm… anyone interested in seeing this continued? Also, any suggestions for stuff you'd like to see in the future, maybe?

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Till next time,

XxZuiliu


	2. Let's Walk Along the Sea Side Road

Title: And maybe then you'll know me too

Rating: T

Summary: For once in his life, he will be selfless. Even if it will still be in his own selfish way, by his own selfish standards… well, he's never been particularly good at letting things go. Why would this be any different? [SI/OC, Male!OC, Uzumaki!OC, Third War, AU]

 **Warnings:** Violence, minor OOC-ness.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto._

(AN at bottom of the chapter.)

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 **And maybe then you'll know me too**

 _02: "Let's Walk Along the Sea Side Road"_

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I do not remember much of my first childhood.

… Perhaps it has something to do with the indeterminate period of time that I had spent floating in that mindless, catatonic state of non-existence. In which there was solely _nothing_ that existed. Can you imagine? It's not something that you're actually _aware_ of per se when you're part of the nothingness, when you're part of the void and perfectly content in knowing nothing, being nothing, forever nothing for all eternity until the end of time in an endless space which time has no dominion over. There is nothing and nothing and _nothing._

Then, suddenly, everything changes.

It happens in the instance of a heartbeat. Quick, short, abrupt. Like flipping a switch, almost.

Snap.

…

… Just like that. Snap, and there suddenly is a _difference._

Deep within the heart of nothingness, where you are but a small fraction of that which does not exist, no longer exists –suddenly you _exist_ once more in a place where existence has no meaning. A conscience, an identity; a sense of _I_ and _me_ where there should only be _nothing._ It's wrong, wrong, _wrong._ And beyond the sheer wrongness of existing where nothing should exist, of being the single existence where there is nothing, _nothing_ …

Terrifying.

 _Absolutely fucking terrifying._

(And it's not just the sense of _wrongness_ that gets to you. It's not that. It's the overwhelming, horrifying fact that there is _nothing_ except _you,_ when _you_ are no longer _nothing,_ and in the nothingness there is nothing but you. You are not nothing; you _know_ that you are not nothing. You have a name, a personality, a character. You have hopes and dreams and aspirations. But in face of the nothingness, all of this pales and fades.

You are _you_ but you have… nothing.

Nothing at all.

You are alone; there is you and only you, and you are absolutely helpless because in the nothingness, there is nothing you can do.)

…

…

… It's a good thing that the state of awareness, of a single self-consciousness in a void of nothing… does not last. It is good. Good. _Beyond good._

I cannot ever imagine returning to the nothingness again, even though I know that it is what ultimately awaits us all.

(Coward.

What does a coward have to lose?)

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Uzumaki Kouyou has: A pair of loving parents, a home in Uzushio, and a Clan that is deeply etched into his veins by blood, the blood that is engraved into his flesh and can never be replaced. The child has a keen intelligence, a maturity far beyond what his meager three years of age implies, and he has _potential._ The intelligence and diligence that Kouyou reveals implies an astounding potential for strength, for _greatness,_ and there are high expectations for this young boy, for all that his parents attempt to keep the pressure from reaching him. Kouyou is not _stupid._

 _Prodigy,_ they say, because inasmuch as Kouyou's parents try to keep things on the low and protect their son from outward influences to the best of their ability, nothing stays a hidden, well-kept secret for long in a shinobi village. And it is good, to have a prodigy. Another soldier, one that has the potential to become _strong._

So in short, this is what Uzumaki Kouyou has: A collection of sand-filled seashells, a brush dipped in his own blood, and, somewhere in the future, a grave. Uzumaki Kouyou is a child, a shinobi to-be, a soldier.

… And I, I am Uzumaki Kouyou.

It's something that I have to repeat to myself in a constant refrain at times: I am Uzumaki Kouyou, Uzumaki Kouyou, Kouyou. Kou. Because some days, it still doesn't feel like that. _I am a grown man_ I am a three-year old child. _My parents are divorced_ I live with two loving parents. _I have an older sister_ I am an only child. So far, that is.

"I am Uzumaki Kouyou," I say aloud quietly, in a sing-song voice that is barely above a whisper to myself. There is something oddly haunting about these simple words, when they are spoken aloud like this in an empty home by a child who holds a brush dipped in his own blood.

(… Huh. I wonder what a sight I must make.)

"I am three years old. I live in Uzushio." I lean forward and paint another careful stroke of blood on the rice-paper in front of me. "When I am older, I will become a shinobi."

Shinobi…

Some days, I'm still not quite sure what to make of the fact that I now live in a village where practically everyone is a trained killer. It's very humbling, to walk past the bright-eyed lady selling mochi down the street and know that she can probably kill you with her pinky alone.

However, for all that it's not uncommon to see scuffles break out on the streets (whether it's between children or teenagers or even _adults_ ), deaths that happen within the walls of Uzushio are actually extremely, extremely rare. It's probably due a sense of camaraderie between people, of something along the lines of _Look, we're all Uzuhio's shinobi; there's no need for infighting amongst ourselves even though we all know a hundred different ways to kill each other or just make each other very, very miserable._ Or perhaps it's because of some law in place that forbids serious infighting within the village bounds. I wouldn't know; at a tender three years of age –physically, at least– I do not yet have the freedom to wander around the village freely and look for these sorts of information without raising undue attention.

… Mother would have a heart attack if I wandered off and did that, I think. And father would probably give me another of those weird, considering looks that he's prone to sneaking around me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. Sort of like looking at strange little critter, which… actually isn't entirely off. Kind of. Hmm.

To be frank, I am honestly amazed that Uzumaki Akio and Uzumaki Mai still seem to have no intentions of hefting off their strange little child on some other poor soul. Precocious children are one thing; actually living with a child who has a fully mature mind, on the other hand… I try, sometimes I really do try to be the child that I murdered, but it's not an act that I can perpetually keep up. I'd go _insane_ trying to do that _._

(All I can say is that Uzumaki Akio and Uzumaki Mai are amazing, amazing people.

… Much better than what I deserve, especially considering how my existence is also the death of their child. Their _real_ child. Murderer, killer, body-snatcher. This is what I am. Doesn't it only make sense, then, that the future laid out before me involves blood and battle and a grave at the end?

This is what a monster deserves.)

"I'm home!"

I blink at the sound of the familiar voice that shatters the stillness of the quiet air, abruptly breaking out of my thoughts as the door opens.

"Welcome back, mother," I call out, voice tender and soft the way all young children's voices tend to be.

"There you are, Kou!" The tall woman steps into the room in a whirlwind of red, crimson hair streaming out behind her in a fiery fanfare before she stops before me, smiling brightly. It takes less than a second for her to lift me in her arms, and I take it as a sign that she deems that I have done enough calligraphy practice today. "Did you miss me while I was gone?"

"Of course," I respond obediently. It's not a lie.

"Awww, c'mon, Kou. _Smile!_ Would it kill you to smile a little more for your mommy?" I let out a startled squawk when the crazy woman suddenly begins pinching and kneading my cheeks, attempting to smush my face into a 'smile' according to her standards. It's _awful._ "There you go! How are you going to make all the pretty ladies fall for you when you're older if you don't smile more?"

"I'm only three, mother," I point out. Or at least, I try to. It comes out as something like, 'om wee thee mo.'

Farewell, dignity. You shall be sorely missed.

"… Mai? What are you trying to teach our son?" A faintly bewildered voice drifts in through the window, and mother _beams._ Father never did have a good sense of timing.

"Akio! Look! Isn't Kou adorable?"

Uzumaki Akio is wearing a half-apprehensive, half-dubious sort of expression on his face, one that he valiantly tries to cover up with a smile when mother bodily brandishes me at him. It is not particularly effective.

"Err… Mai, uh, how 'bout you set Kou down first, yeah? He's looking a little, um–"

"Akio, _isn't our son adorable?"_

"… Yes dear," my father squeaks out meekly, both hands held up in the universal sign of surrender. Oh, if only I could do the same to spare my cheeks the pain.

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Dinner tonight is a gathering.

It happens occasionally every now and then. Several Uzumaki families get together to hold a dinner together, and the parents socialize with each other while the children run about underfoot. I have progressed to the point of knowing other children's names, and that is quite enough for me. I am not exactly… enthusiastic… about finding _friends_ in other three-year-olds or five-year-olds or what have you. Really, really, unenthusiastic, as one might say.

"Catch me if you can!" A particularly energetic young girl screams in delight before she tears off across the rocks, vermillion hair billowing out behind her in a brilliant sun-lit banner. Not a second later, a horde of red-haired children barrel after her footsteps in her wake, and the ringing sound of laughter fills the air.

It's a nice scene, very heartwarming and very homely. The thought of joining in with the game myself, however, is fairly undesirable.

"Not going to try and make some new friends, Kou?" Unlike Mai, Akio doesn't forcibly drag me into situations against my will, even if he does try to give a little nudge here and there every now and again. "Come now, it's not good to be so quiet and withdrawn all the time. You're smart enough to realize that, aren't you?"

"… I don't want to." At that moment, one of the younger ones trailing after the others trips and skins his knee. He… he has… a very healthy set of lungs. It gives me enough reason to look up at my father in an _Are you seriously trying to make me act like_ that _with them_ look, and the man twitches a little before finally acquiescing and picking me up in his arms, to avoid the chance of me being dragged off by any overly-excited child underfoot.

One point to me, then.

It's not as if I dislike children in general, because it's not exactly that children themselves are _distasteful_ or anything in my eyes, just… the prospect of rolling around in the mud with hyperactive children screeching shrilly was not something that appealed very much to me, and for good reason, I should think.

"Akio! It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

A low, rumbling baritone that comes across in a warm, hearty greeting. Everything about this new voice exudes goodwill and friendliness, but I do not miss the way that my father tenses ever so slightly before turning around to face the red-haired man who is coming up behind us in long, striding steps. Out of curiosity, and a vague sort of caution-alarm, I peer up to study the new arrival myself.

The man is tall and sturdy, of stronger, bulkier build than my father –Akio's lean, lithe form is completely dwarfed under the burlesque figure that comes to a towering stop in front of us. That's not what catches my attention and holds it, though. It's something else –and it's hard to put into words, but there is something that is surely, undoubtedly akin to the aura of a king's confidence nestled comfortably and smoothly within this crimson-headed man's demeanor, the look of a man assured of his place in the world and of the power that he wields in it.

"Mizutori-sama," my father bows his head politely, respectfully. I, clumsily mimic the action from my spot in my father's arms, which only brings a smile of amusement to the man's face.

(… So this is Uzumaki Mizutori-sama, head of the Uzumaki Clan and Uzukage.)

"Now, now, no need for all the formalities! You used to be a lot more fun as a chuunin, Akio." The esteemed clan head grins, before leaning in to stage-whisper conspiratorially, "Just between you and me, I'll be petitioning at the next clan meeting to get rid of all the '–sama' '–sama' attachments to my name. Makes me feel way older than necessary, haha!"

"In that case… then I wish you the best of luck with that, Mizutori-sama." Even though an edge of amusement enters Akio's voice, there is still an unwavering hint of politeness underlying his words.

Uzumaki Mizutori-sama simply waves a hand around absently. "There you go again, all stiff and formal. I tell you, between one meeting and the next, 'Mizutori-sama' this and 'Mizutori-sama' that is all I've been hearing day in and day out! Oh, what I wouldn't give for a change of pace at least around my blood-kin and clansmen, if nothing else…"

"Ah. I hope your meetings lately have been fruitful, then."

"If only," the man shakes his head mournfully, and for a single moment a hint of something darker darts across his eyes, but then he blinks and it is gone. There is nothing but the warmth of the sun-striking-sea-waves of the ocean surrounding Uzushio that is present in his gleaming eyes. "Well, talks with Konoha have been fairly successful, at the very least. You know a few things about it, don't you? Jounin Akio."

"Only bits and pieces of stray rumors, I'm afraid." It feels strange, seeing this other side of my normally-cheerful father –all stiff propriety and careful, neutral responses. I can only put it down to the clan head being an intimidating man, laid-back and easygoing as he portrays himself to be. "I will await the official announcement to the clan like everyone else at the end of this moon."

"Mmm. I'll tell you this, Akio… regardless of which rumors you've picked up, this time most of them all contain a grain of truth to some degree," Mizutori-sama laughs, and it's a humorless sound. "Well. At least with Mito-sama's position in Konoha, it's not as bad as it could've turned out to be."

"… But that's enough about me, though. How have _you_ been lately, Akio?"

Held closely against my father's body as I am, I can clearly feel the way the man tenses involuntarily again ever so slightly as he had when the clan head had first walked over. "… Well enough, Mizutori-sama."

"Always with those short responses; I _swear_ trying to hold a conversation with you is like trying to pull teeth from a horse's mouth!" The clan head chuckles, a low rumbling sound deep in his chest. "I see that you have your son with you right now. Kou-chan, isn't it?"

" _I am Uzumaki Kouyou, Mizutori-sama."_

…

… I don't know what possesses me in this moment. I don't know what possesses me to suddenly speak up in front of this man, the clan head of the Uzumaki, the unofficial ruler of Uzushio despite our kage. It isn't even anything special; friends of my parents have also addressed me as Kou-chan and I have never said anything against it. But in this very moment, faced against this man who could easily kill me with a flick of the wrist a hundred times over… maybe it's something about the way Akio had tensed up from the very moment he arrived, maybe it's something about the almost-distant courtesy my father affords the clan head in a way that is very much like _wariness_ for all the outward warmth he is shown, maybe it's how I feel not like a person but an _item_ to be appraised when he turns his eye on me…

(Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I'm just instinctively responding to the unsettled feeling of my father, maybe this is all pointless, maybe I'm seeing things wrong where they are perfectly right. Maybe I'm only being overly sensitive, and the clan head is genuinely just checking in on one of his clansmen.

… Maybe.)

"How old is he, Akio?" Mizutori-sama finally says, looking straight at me. It makes me raise my hackles –mentally at least, even though I keep a perfectly straight outward appearance and lapse into silence at my father's side again. "For such a small child, he pronounces his words very well. I must commend you on your education methods; my own daughter took quite awhile to speak fluently, and she's still prone to that verbal tick of hers…"

"Kouyou isn't," my father hesitates for a moment, before he looks to the clan head resolutely. "His, his health isn't the best; that's why he's indoors most of the time, and my wife has more time to teach him things like speaking and writing. Kouyou's birth was a difficult one, and his chakra imbalance stretched on for a fairly long time –there are still records of it in the hospital, Mizutori-sama."

Health difficulties? … I certainly hadn't heard anything of this sort about any health issues I had from my parents, and I certainly _felt_ fine –granted, I might not be the best judge of such things, considering the situation I had been in prior to reawakening in this world as an infant, which was my only true comparison. But it would make sense that Akio and Mai wouldn't tell me of such things; I knew that both regarded me as genius by this point and would speak to me of many things in my lessons, but maybe there were still some other things that they felt I was not yet ready to hear about.

… Which would beg the question of why Akio was saying this to Mizutori-sama right in front of my face. Maybe it was because he was the clan head?

"I see." Something flickers across Mizutori-sama's face lightning-fast, too quick for me to catch and decipher. "I hope it's nothing that will negatively impact his career?"

"We… we still aren't sure yet, Mizutori-sama," Akio replies lowly, simply, casting his eyes to the ground. "But Kouyou tends to sleep a lot throughout the day, more so than other children, and he seems perfectly content to sit and draw instead of running out to play with others his age, so we are… concerned. I certainly hope that it's nothing and I'm only overreacting, but–"

" _Tou-chan!"_

Red. A banner of red. My father abruptly breaks off his words when a red comet tackles the clan head out of nowhere, and Mizutori-sama stumbles back with an 'omph' –feigned, I'm sure– before easily swinging up the red comet in his hands, and–

I blink.

It's the girl. The girl who had been leading the children at the very forefront of the last game. Older than most of my age-mates, so she stood quite a bit taller than the majority of the other children, but that didn't stop her from scrambling around with the others, screaming in delight the way only children do at play.

"Tou-chan, tou-chan! I _won!_ I finally beat Naoto's skinny ass–"

" _Kushina!"_ Mizutori-sama barks out, blatantly alarmed. The heavy mien that had crept up upon the two men from the previous conversation is immediately broken. _"Where_ did you learn that language, young lady?"

"… Oops." The girl sticks out her tongue, entirely unrepentant as she grins brightly. "Senju-san asked me to keep that a secret the other day, hehe. Ne, ne, we can keep it a secret between us, too, right tou-chan? Right? We can keep all our secrets together, 'ttebane!"

I can't help but stare. It's like watching a train wreck happen.

"Kushina…"

"What, tou-chan?" Suddenly, the crimson-haired girl's attitude flips an entire one-eighty, and she blinks watery, doleful eyes up at the large man. "T-Tou-chan, are you going to get mad at me? I swear it's not my fault this time, you can ask Senju-san! Mou, when I leave with Senju-san for Konoha do you _really_ want my last memory of you to be of you being _angry_ with me?"

Mizutori-sama heaves a heavy sigh, one that looks a lot like surrender.

"… Of course not, my little princess."

"Yay!" Instantly, the tears disappear, and the girl lets out a bright cheer –before she twists around in his arms, and her attention falls directly onto me. Urk. "You! You're that kid who never plays with us! What, think you're too good for us or something?"

Haughty and childish. And you wonder _why_ I want to avoid kids like you.

But before I manage to formulate any sort of response, Mizutori-sama intervenes, which is… surprising, considering his earlier attitude.

"Be nice, Kushina. Kouyou has his reasons for not playing very often." He straightens and turns to my father, inclining his head slightly. "If you'll excuse me now, I've got other clan members to check on as well. I will see you at the next clan meeting, Akio."

"Of course, Mizutori-sama."

Even watching him leave is like watching a storm recede –admittedly, part of that image has to do with the restless bundle of energy in his arms. Bit by bit as the clan head steps farther and farther away from us, I can feel the way my father relaxes inch by inch, until they are entirely out of sight.

"… Tou-san?"

"I'm alright, Kou," the man turns a tired smile on me. "Well, that was exciting. What do you think of Mizutori-sama?"

I blink and pause for a moment, before replying in a declaration that contains all the gravity of a child, "Mizutori-sama is scary, tou-san."

"Scary?" For a single second, Akio seems surprised that 'scary' is the word I would use to describe the clan head, but then a light of understanding enters his eyes, and he ruffles my hair.

"Ah. Kou-chan is right. Mizutori-sama is a very scary man."

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(Uzumaki Mai has had a grand total of three times in her life in which she was pretty damn sure that she'd die, only to pull through on a mix of sheer willpower and dumb luck. The first time was when she had been idiotic enough to attempt fuuinjutsu far above her level even though she didn't fully understand the theory behind it (desperate times called for desperate measures), the second was when a fucking _cliff_ collapsed on her (no thanks to enemy interference), and the third was when she was giving birth to her darling little Kou.

She doesn't regret the numerous brushes with death… maybe only the first one, if pressed on the subject. Just a little.

It's part of the reason why she starts Kou on fuuinjutsu lessons as soon as she realizes that the child is ready. Fuuinjutsu is a mysterious, esoteric art to most of the ninja world, but for the Uzumaki, it's something that comes as naturally as breathing to them once they dive in and begin to explore the art for themselves. Sealing is as beautiful as it is deadly, and Mai fully intends on making sure that her child will be as well-prepared for delving into the deeper depths of fuuinjutsu as he will ever be, so that he will never have a moment where he will have to rely on the panicked prayers of sheer willpower and dumb luck for his seals to work properly.

"What do you think?" She holds up a sheet of neatly-inked blood calligraphy to her husband's eyes. "Kou-chan's best work today. It's looking a lot nicer now than when he first started, ne?"

No response. Mai blinks in surprise, leaning in and waving a hand in front of her fellow redhead's face.

"Helloooo? Akio? Earth to Akio? … Anyone home, darling?"

…

"AKIO!"

The man jolts, twitching. Mai sits back with a small huff, folding her arms across her chest with a 'hmph' at being ignored. Of course she knows that he would never ignore her _purposefully_ (he'd better not, or else there'd be hell to pay), so either the man had something on his mind or something had gone wrong with his mission earlier today. But there certainly hadn't seemed to be anything off with the man when they had been heading out to dinner together, so–

"Mizutori-sama came to speak with me at dinner today."

Quiet words, delivered softly.

Mai freezes.

… Even though she's only a chuunin, it's not like she's _ignorant,_ and besides, she has a jounin for a husband. She knows that her husband is as proud of their son as she is, even though that same pride is tempered by worry. A perfectly reasonable sort of concern in these times, for a man in a ninja clan teetering on the cusp of something that may very well devolve into war if not handled correctly.

"What did he talk to you about, then?" she gently asks her beloved, eyes furrowing lightly. "Did he…?"

"Yes. I managed to push it off as health issues, though." The man let out a rough exhale, running a hand through his hair messily. "It's definitely not going to stand up long-term, but… it'll be enough, I think. I saw his daughter, Kushina –the girl slipped something about leaving for Konoha with the Senju that was sent here as part of the Konoha delegation. Soon, I believe."

"Oh good," Mai breathes in relief, and is instantly hit with a wave of guilt for doing so. It's not like it's a _secret_ within the clan, what sort of deal that Mizutori-sama has managed to strike with Konoha, and she knows that the poor girl has a rough road ahead of her on the path to Konoha, princess of the Uzumaki or not. But at the same time, when she knows that Mizutori-sama had come and looked at _Kouyou_ today, had inquired after her child…

… Well, kunoichi of the clan or not, Uzumaki Mai is also a mother. _Of course_ she is going to be a little selfish when it comes to her own son.)

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…

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Author's Notes:

Second chapter up. Glad to see that there's a few people interested in this plot bunny so far! :)

About the summary –it's something that won't be really obvious in the beginning, I think, mostly just because I'm still trying to get into a flow for things and because there's more background-building and stuff. It's going to become very fitting on later though, unless I decide to change my mind about it. Which might very well happen, now that I think about it, since I only have vague ideas for some stuff that I want to happen, and no idea at all for others…

… well. Anyways.

Finally a canon character appears! Kushina only gets a small segment here, but she'll become more important later on. This is just the first 'official' meeting between the two. Trying to keep in mind that Kushina is just a child, even though she's older than Kouyou by a good 4-ish years. And before people start harping on me for saying that even 1-2 years between young children is a really big age gap for children to be playing together, I want to point out that this is in Uzushio, which is a really small village and doesn't have many people. The dinner thing here is only between Uzumaki clansmen as well, so that cuts down on a lot of playmate options.

Also, on an entirely different note: _What are your thoughts on a multiverse OC fic?_ … Because I'm actually thinking of writing one sometime, as crazy and insane as it sounds. There are a few fandoms I have in mind to explore already, but I'm also putting up a **poll** on my profile to ask about the ones that I'm still picking between right now. So. **Please head over to my profile and vote** for whatever -verse you think would be interesting to read about! :D

Alternatively, you could also submit suggestions for fandoms you'd like to see either via **review** or **PM** if it's not on the poll options; it bothers me none whichever way. :)

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 **QUESTION:** Any thoughts or ideas that you would like to share about your impressions of fuuinjutsu? Also, any idea as to what not-so-subtle bullet Kouyou just dodged in this chapter? xD

* * *

 **Multiple updates today!** OtD has been updated as well. Additionally, I've also posted a new story, 'Paper Plane Parade,' which features a male!OC in a grave-robbing!AU of the KHR-verse. Please check it out if you're interested~

Till next time,

XxZuiliu


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